Chapter 1476 - Conflict

The band's ensemble performance was even better than the previous one, though the audience didn't display the same frenzy as in the garden. However, the atmosphere had been relieved from the awkwardness created by the Governor's secretary.

Seizing the opportunity, the Baroness announced a brilliant play for the guests. With a few claps of her hands, servants quickly moved away surplus tables and chairs, clearing a space and setting up a simple stage with scenery. The musicians began playing melodious madrigals, performing the great poet Juan del Encina's Cristino and Febea.

The actor playing the monk Cristino provoked a wave of laughter the moment "he" appeared—the audience could all see "he" was actually a girl. Her rather dark skin, the contrast between her soft face and sharp, distinct features, all showed characteristics of mixed blood. Her cunning, intimate, glancing eyes completely transcended the role; her flirtation with the nymph Febea seemed reserved but was actually seasoned. When Cristino finally decided to yield to love and renounce monasticism, she sang with exaggerated piety:

Monastic life, Is indeed holy, Only because they, Are all old men.

While singing, she coyly removed the monk's wide robe, revealing a slender figure wrapped in a men's doublet. Cheers, acclaim, and applause swept in like a storm. Many eyes stared tight at the girl's slender thighs wrapped in men's close-fitting hose.

"Flora is very smart," the Baroness remarked. "The quickest-witted of the girls serving me."

Hearing the hostess's words, Esteban Sanabria sensed the long-awaited opportunity to show off had arrived. "Good! Great! Bravo! Take your reward!" He cheered enthusiastically, tossing a purse at the feet of Flora, who played the monk. The thud scared the girl into backing away. Gold coins rolled out of the purse, scattering brightly across the floor.

The guests stirred. The colony tycoon was triumphant, completely failing to notice the Baroness's furrowed brows.

The Count waved his hand. "It is my fault for not preparing a gift for such a lovely girl. Madam, if you permit, I wish to make up for this oversight." He rose, plucked a few dendrobium orchids and jasmine sprigs from a vase in the corner of the living room, slipped a ring from his hand onto the bouquet, and tossed it to Flora.

The girl caught the precious bouquet deftly, ran down from the stage holding it, stood on tiptoe to kiss the Count on the cheek, then hid behind the hostess as if shy—not forgetting to leave the Count an amorous look.

The Governor's secretary screamed, forgetting to maintain his self-proclaimed lofty image, staring at the sparkling ring on the bouquet. "Oh my—heavens—a diamond that big must be worth at least a thousand pistoles!"

The crowd erupted instantly. Everyone knew of the Count's immense wealth; so-called "throwing gold like dirt" was probably just like this.

Eugenio had greatly overestimated the value of this "diamond ring." Gemstone resources in Hainan and Lechang, Shandong, were quite abundant. Various gems were not highly valued in the Ming Dynasty; Lechang sapphires went unnoticed even in the early 20th century. Such rich gemstone resources naturally hadn't escaped the attention of the industrial sector. Besides using diamonds for cutting tools, Dr. Zhong of the Ministry of Science and Technology had spent considerable effort developing jewel watch movements, though the advent of the Lingao version 24-jewel mechanical watch remained far off.

However, unintended actions brought unexpected success. The Ministry of Science and Technology had stumbled upon a method to heat-treat the red zircon special to Hainan for color adjustment. The zircon, after heat treatment and decolorization, then carefully cut and polished according to modern processing methods, rivaled diamonds enough to pass for genuine. Since Chinese people didn't value gems much at the time, and sales prospects for similar zircon jewelry in the Great Ming were dim, the trade department had prepared to send them to Macau, placing them in the display cabinets of the Purple Treasure Pavilion's Macau branch for export sales.

The ring Weiss had just removed was such a ring. He glanced at Sanabria out of the corner of his eye. The colony tycoon's face had already turned green, his eyes darting panic-stricken between the Count, Flora, and the hostess.

Many guests were very interested in this impromptu rivalry—especially when the hostess ordered servants to pick up every single gold coin spilled on the floor and return them to Sanabria. The colony's number one tycoon's face went from green to pale. Malicious snickers rose from the crowd.

For the remaining time, Sanabria refused to dance, instead burying himself at the card table trying to regain dignity. By the start of dinner, he had lost his purse empty—not a single gold coin left.

The Baroness's family banquet was considerably more refined and fashionable than most in Manila. Quite a few guests watched the Count's movements intently while clumsily fiddling with silver forks. Italians had been accustomed to eating with two-pronged forks for over a hundred years, but for Spaniards, this was still a novelty. As for remote Manila, Weiss Lando had seen many high-status Europeans still grabbing meat from plates with their hands, wiping mouths with sleeves, knowing nothing of handkerchiefs and napkins.

Dishes were served like flowing water. Some tasted excellent; others made Weiss frown—the chef had superfluously stuck feathers plucked from the duck back onto its roasted body. As for famous dishes like stewed calf sweetbreads, mixed sheep brains, and celery braised oxtail, Weiss respectfully declined them all, constantly sipping the sweet Madeira wine instead. This wine was excellent—even superior to the renowned sherry.

Fine wine and delicacies took effect rapidly. Clinking glasses were heard everywhere. Before long, shouts for the King's health and the hostess's beauty led to toasts. Heated with wine, people fell into a drunken frenzy.

Alfonso was getting along famously with his neighbor, a pretty mixed-blood young matron whose husband was currently far away in a castle in Cebu. An elderly, white-haired city councilor took his glass straight to Lucrezia, pouring out how passionately he loved her and expressing his admiration, to which she responded with a charming laugh. Sanabria also leaned in, asking if the hostess was satisfied with his gift: a pair of massive Chinese porcelain vases painted with colorful patterns.

To celebrate his promotion, Lieutenant Colonel Alfonso had downed a great deal of wine, and he was convinced he had won the heart of that beautiful Creole wife. He laughed loudly: "Sir, it would be best to ask His Highness Vannanova to open your eyes. In his private residence in Malate, the entire washroom is tiled with porcelain. Not these rough clay blocks—" he pointed at the Portuguese painted azulejos paving the Baroness's living room wall, continuing drunkenly: "—it's authentic Chinese porcelain, smooth as ice. The washbasin is a large porcelain basin fired in one piece, without a single flaw, the glaze lustrous enough to surpass crystal."

"Wouldn't that be a palace washroom only the Chinese Emperor possesses?" the Baroness asked in amazement.

"I'm afraid even the Chinese Emperor doesn't have such enjoyment. If the Count doesn't mind, I'll continue. In his washroom, near the porcelain wall, sits a peculiar large porcelain jar—top-grade Chinese goods. Guess what this beautiful porcelain is used for?"

The Creole young matron spoke a few words softly, earning another loud laugh from Alfonso. "Wrong guess, Madam. Let me tell you—that porcelain jar looks strange, but ladies and misses would be very comfortable sitting on it, and men standing before it would feel quite at ease as well."

Facing the female guests' gazes mixed with reproach and curiosity, Alfonso twirled his mustache, appearing extremely proud to act as the revealer of a great wonder.

"And no need to worry about filth. After His Highness Vannanova finishes his business, he only needs to pull the handle of a machine. That machine sprays clear water, flushing all filth into the sewer in the blink of an eye, washing the porcelain jar commode clean as new—whiter than snow on the Sierra Nevada. So his washroom is always clean and fresh. Now, Mr. Sanabria, what do you think of using porcelain as a commode? Is His Highness Vannanova living too extravagantly, or is Chinese porcelain no longer that noble nowadays?"

"The Count doesn't value porcelain much," Andrade added. "Once, to verify marksmanship, he took out a whole set of Chinese porcelain tableware as targets. At a distance of 25 varas, he used a pistol to shatter those extremely beautiful butter dishes, sauce boats, and soup plates one by one. If I did similar shooting practice, I admit I'd go bankrupt after a few times."

Sanabria had drunk too much; his face was flushed crimson. Thinking he had found a straw to save face, he roared loudly: "Nonsense—complete lies! No one, using any pistol, could possibly hit a saucer at a range of 25 varas. Only the most shameless liar would boast so absurdly. I believe even at half of 25 varas, he couldn't hit anything, even if the target were a dining table."

"Hey, watch yourself, Mr. Sanabria. You are slandering the honor of a nobleman—perhaps two."

The colony's number one tycoon completely disregarded the warning. The resentment accumulated throughout the party erupted along with the alcohol fumes: "Italian noble titles are only worth 100 ducats! And a forged family genealogy doesn't even cost that much."

"That's not false," the Governor's Secretary launched into his torrent of biting commentary again. "I stayed in Naples for quite a while. When I left, my guest list recorded 119 princes, 156 dukes, 173 marquises, and as for counts—no fewer than three hundred. A Genoese broker or a Venetian gambler buys a piece of barren land in Mezzogiorno with money won at the card table, and he earns himself a title. Truly a business with ten thousand percent profit—worth bragging about greatly."

(End of Chapter)